March 22, 2004

I believe I may be rounding the corner out of hermitdom. Well, it's not a corner, exactly, more of a curving line, but the point is that it slopes away from Crazy Shutinston.

Of course, even as I claim to be veering off from Cuckoosville, I must note that I abruptly realized (not an epiphany, exactly--more like suddenly getting a joke) last week that I am nutty as a fruitcake. I mean, people always tell me I'm nutty (in an endearing way, apparently; I don't have that uneasy craziness that makes you steer clear like it's contagious), but I never exactly believed them.

But somewhere in the midst of jam-packing my new dental cabinets with a tetris-y precision, it struck me: I'm crazy. Maybe it was the four drawers loaded with candles: one stacked tightly with tea lights; one with restaurant-style red and yellow glass candles, scented pillars, Mexican Lux Perpetua candles and citronella mosquito candles; one heaped with tapers (I'm relatively certain that I do not own a candleholder for tapers); and another with votives, more tea lights, floating candles, and a bunch of half-burned odds and ends I'm apparently saving for the big blackout, a delayed Y2K crisis, the new séance craze, or another Great Depression. The thing is, outside of trying to clear a stinky bathroom or doggy living room when my infrequent company's on the way, I rarely light candles. And yet, I have hundreds. Hm.

There's also half a drawer of birthday candles, but that's over in the Cupcake Department. Yes, I have 20 or 30 packages of cupcake wrappers, which I unwrapped and stacked neatly to save space and give the appearance I'm just a prepared baker and not completely off my rocker. I also have two drawers with several dozen types of fancy toothpicks, tiny forks and cocktail spears, for all the parties I never have; one drawer of cupcake sprinkles; a cookie cutter drawer (unremarkable except for two Texas cutters and two full sets of alphabet cutters--I winnowed out most of the cutter hoard last year, but couldn't part with the Texases or letters); one drawer crammed with swizzle sticks, straws (both bendy and cocktail), and those little drink umbrellas; and one drawer devoted to shell-topped skewers and toothpicks, for the many luau I apparently host in my imagination.

Anyway, I'm not sure what I'm getting at here, except that 1) Okay, I'm nuts, I admit it; and 2) Maybe it's time I start actually interacting with other humans, if for no other reason than to use up all those candles and toothpicks and cupcake wrappers.

To that end, I brought a trayful of borderline-crappy cupcakes to Kitty Kitty Bang Bang's party the weekend before last. I brought a trayful of cupcakes (and a pan of brownies) and wore a feathery dress and drank who-knows-how-much beer and had a really wonderful time, peed twice in the back yard, and almost completely resisted giving in to my usual paranoia that I was the unwitting pariah (strangely, that particular paranoia doesn't actually depress me; it just makes me wonder gleefully who loathes me--or maybe my joy at people not liking me is self-delusion, duh duh, but I can only be so fucking self-aware and still stand it).

I interacted tentatively with several new people, many of whom I really liked, but none of whom I completely remember (much beer/no dinner). There was a blonde girl with a frantic, unnerving but still appealing energy who had moved here from somewhere else (Minnesota?), and a tall, purposeful, allegedly recently-pregnant woman with spit-curls that I might have imagined (the spit-curls; not the woman), and another with dyed black hair and bangs and glassy eyes and a measured, precise way of speaking and moving that was kind of hypnotic. And a lot of other nice folks who made me very happy but who I was too pie-eyed to catalog.

I stayed far too long because I was waiting out my bender, and watched with envy as Rachel and her young man danced (and I even danced with him myself; my blurry recollection is that it was dreamy and that he's a very solid lead). Being alone, and drunk, I even envied the couple who seemed to dance well enough together but who complained of having dancing problems. I can't remember their names, but I would have no difficulty picking them out of a lineup.

In addition to the party, this month I've also left the house for dominoes with Rebecca and the boys, roller-skating with Rachel, Dr. Strangelove with Jay, coffee and supper with my long lost friend Jim, and my Democratic caucus! Why I'm practically a gadabout!

Now Suzanne's back after 9 weeks at yoga camp, and the house is reasonably clean (meaning it still looks like a crazy person lives her, but at least it looks like a person lives here), decent enough to have a few friends over for drinks or cards. So maybe I'll use up some of those fancy toothpicks, after all.

2.17.04